Stars of Tyde

A joyless sail through the ocean made a difference in the passion she longed for. The sea was her home; always changing and shifting under the belly of the ship. The ideas of creatures and treasures under her feet. But Captain Drake made the song wane into sadness every time she boarded the Royal.

Promoted to First Mate, officially. She'd been sailing with Captain Drake for almost three decades. Scrubbing the deck from blood to caring for the crew to being bedded by the men of the ship to gain access into the Captain's quarters. But gaining First Mate wasn't enough. She longed to relax and drink with the crew, but the eyes of the captain made her hesitate. She saw too many men fall for lowering their guard after too much rum. She would take the ship if it meant the sea's song pounded in her ears; she just needed time.

"Orla," Drake said, lifting his head from the map at the helm. "You're a woman, right?" he asked.

Orla looked down at herself, taking in her breasts and the shadow of her figure the sun gave her form. "I assume so." She said, standing to his right.

"Good," Drake replied before gripping her wrist and pinning her against the helm.

Orla fought against him, feeling the handles digging into her shoulder blades and his rough hands against her shirt as he pulled it from her pants. "I suggest you stop before you lose a hand." Orla spat, grabbing his wrist.

"Last time I checked, you were my First Mate and you are not captain." Drake claimed before taking his touch down her pants, his finger running over her core.

Orla clenched her jaw, kneeing him in the groin, causing him to stumble back. She removed the sword at her side and aimed it at his chest. The crew onboard froze. No one had dared to challenge Drake since he gained the Royal. "I said you would lose a hand." She repeated.

Drake stumbled to his feet, ripping the sword from his belt and aimed it at Orla. "I gave you everything." He spat.

"Just because you gave me everything does not give you the right to touch me as you just did." Orla stepped forward. "This ship is mine, this crew is mine. You are finished as captain."

Drake charged after her, anger lacing his eyes as he brought his sword down. Orla's wrist screamed against the impact but held firm as she blocked his attack, keeping the distance knowing full well that the sword he held could slice her in two. But she knew he couldn't control the sword, not from the weight of it.

Orla jumped out of his attacks, shifting quickly on her feet before she had found an opening, sliding her sword through his chest. But the stinging in her side nagged at her for not keeping an eye on his other hand. His dagger had stuck between her ribs and the world around her started to sway. A captain always holds two weapons. She could hear him mutter in her ear. But the cheers on deck where barely whispers as she rolled to her back as rain patted her cheeks that felt too much like blood.

Days passed before Orla jolted awake, but not in her normal place below deck. No, she was in the captain's quarters. Lush silk pillows held her head and the velvet blanket draped over her form was boiling her blood before she shoved it off. She gasped, holding her side as the bandage touched her fingers. She shook off the stickiness of the blood on her hands before rising to her feet and walking to the main deck.

The Royal was a ship that got its name after Captain Drake stole it from a king. The royal bloodline of that family was left to Drake and now, it seemed, that it was placed in Orla's hands.

The sun stung her eyes and the ship made her sick with the rocking or even the lack of food or the smell of men stuck on a ship for weeks. She swallowed the bile from her throat before a hand placed the captain hat on her blonde braided hair. "Captain Orla!" Everyone cheered, but some crossed their arms over their broad chests, staring her down.

"Is there a problem?" Orla asked, tilting her head despite the pounding of her pulse from moving from the bed. She felt like she had drank for weeks with nothing other than rum to wash down her sorrows. "I am your captain, I believe you should show me some respect." She countered, taking a step forward.

She was captain to twenty men and women who were aboard the Royal. She had to care for them like a babysitter, but she would be on the sea and making a difference to those around her and those she saw.

"You're nothing more than an imp at this point, captain." One countered, catching her hand around her ribs where the dagger had struck her lung.

Orla's lips curved into a smirk. "I mean, if we're calling insults, at least I can please a woman." She laughed before meeting the man's eyes. "Drake is dead and even if he wasn't dead, the Royal belongs to me. I am the heir to this ship and the bloodline he took. We're pirates, that's what we do. We take things." Orla said before stepping back and facing the crew. "But I don't know about you, but I'm tired of washing the blood from my hands and the emptiness I feel in my belly. You can't eat gold and Drake never took us to port long enough for us to gather actual supplies. We sail to the city, those of whom you wish to only serve Drake have my permission to leave. Do not defile my name because your captain lost." She commanded.

Your captain. Drake's touch still haunted her skin. The unwanted thought of him taking her on the helm made her gag and uneasy.

"Head to the city, it's time we change things." Orla said to the woman at the helm, already shifting them to the city.

Orla closed the door of her chambers, pulling off her shirt to find the dark red stain against her bandages. For her to be blind enough, after his training, to not see the dagger in his other hand... Orla shook her head, looking at the mirror.

"You should drink this." Someone said from the corner of the room, holding out her hand to a steaming bowl of liquid. "Before the infection takes that oath you just made."

Orla met the eyes of the healer in the mirror, lowering her hands and faced her. The healer was nice to look at, with and without clothes. Drake kept her close by to heal the hangovers that kept him in this cabin for days. Nothing ever seemed to help them, though. On times that this healer would leave the room, she always seemed to find Orla's bed in the night where they would spend entangled in the sheets until dawn. Orla's toes curled at the thought, taking the bowl from her and drank it deeply, letting the warmth curl around her wound.

"I figured you would have stopped me." Orla said, pulling off the bandages around her chest.

"I know better than to help you when you don't want it, Ori." The healer offered a small smile, walking over to her and undressed her bandages. "That and you had to address your crew."

Her touch brushed over her stomach and just below her breasts, rolling the soiled bandage into her hand, checking her wound. "You should be healed once we get to the city." The healer nodded, mostly to herself, Orla assumed as if confirming her work and grabbed fresh bandages.

Orla watched the healer, the way her fingers moved over her skin like she was playing the piano and healing was her song. Orla shifted on her feet, all too aware of the healer's touch against her chest as she tucked the end of the bandage in the center of her chest. "Rest." The healer told her, but she knew her eyes danced differently.

The healer pressed a soft kiss to Orla's cheek and guided her into bed. Orla's eyes never left the healers, not even as she pulled the healer to her lap, pulling her knees to her hips and kissed. Orla's hands ran over the healers back as she kissed her deeply. A soft sound left the healers lips sending a spike down Orla's spine. She untucked the healer's tunic, her hands roaming over her sides and her back before her thumbs found her nipples.

The healer threaded her fingers in Orla's blonde hair, a moan leaving her lips as her hips moved closer to Orla's in need. Orla pulled off her tunic, tossing it to the wood flooring behind her, kissing down her chest and her tongue finding the peak of her breast. The healer gasped as Orla gave attention to both of her breasts; one enticed with her tongue and the other teased between fingertips.

Orla moved up the healers chest, moving to her neck as she laid her against the pillows, a knee between her hips, sending moans around the room. Orla laced her fingers with the healers, pinning them on either side of her head while her lips moved down the healers body and her knee moved with the healers hips.

Orla leaned back, pulling off the healers boots and pants, throwing them on top of her tunic. Orla's eyes ran over the healers, a smirk catching her lips as she looked over her form. her heaving chest, peaked breasts and her hands holding the bars connected to the headboard. "Good girl." Orla purred, bracing the bed around the healer, returning her knee to her core as featherlight touches brushed over her hips before finding the soaked area between the healers hips.

Orla kissed her deeply, moving her fingers inside her, listening to her breathing hitch and moan between the kiss as she pumped her fingers between the healer's thighs. The healer gripped the bars, arching her back against the pleasure that raced through her blood, the piano keys of healing and the rushing waters of the sea entangled into one room. Orla kissed her neck, sucking on her skin to leave marks behind before she felt the healer's climax against her fingers, tugging at the bars as she gasped against the pleasure as Orla prolonged the climax.

Orla climbed off the bed, washing her hands and her face before she saw the healer roll to her side, keeping an eye on the bathroom door before Orla walked out, leaning against the doorframe. "You should have been resting." The healer smiled.

"Someone distracted me." Orla whispered, her smile intoxicating, before climbing onto the bed next to her pulling the healer to her chest as she nuzzled her nose in the crook of her neck. She laced their fingers together, kissing the healers shoulder before sleep took them both.